


Milk

by okapi



Series: Clothes Make the Woman [6]
Category: Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Breastfeeding, F/F, Femslash, Genderswap, Hurt/Comfort, Nursing Kink, POV John
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-24
Updated: 2014-02-24
Packaged: 2018-01-13 15:15:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 861
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1231210
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/okapi/pseuds/okapi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fem!John comforts Fem!Sherlock after a case goes bad. Hurt/comfort short featuring a nursing bra. Two sequels: <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/1576436">Scheduling Delivery</a> and <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/1889934">Lapsang Souchong</a>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Milk

“I was more pack mule than anything else,” argued John. “She just needed someone to help her with the shopping bags and what not.” 

“But why _you_? Doesn’t she have any other friends? And what took all afternoon?” asked Sherlock petulantly. 

“Having a baby is a serious enterprise, Sherlock. You need a lot of _supplies_. She got a pram and baby clothes and blankets and a breast pump and maternity clothes and nursing clothes…You can’t imagine,” said John.

“I can imagine,” said Sherlock blandly, “I choose not to.” 

“I know for a fact that you are not jealous of Sarah,” countered John. “Not since you cuntblocked me with her during that case with the Chinese circus.” 

“I wasn’t cuntblocking you; I was cuntblocking _her_. Two birds, one stone, and I solved the case. All worked out rather nicely,” said Sherlock. She put her hands on John’s shoulders and drew them along her clavicles and up her neck and tilted her chin, pulling John’s lips to hers. Sherlock looked at her with one raised eyebrow. 

_Beep!_

Sherlock’s mobile. 

“Case,” they said in unison.

 

 

Nine hours later they were in a taxi returning to Baker Street. A dark silence lay between them.

“I figured it out,” said Sherlock. Her words rang hollow. 

_Not quickly enough for that poor girl._

“He won’t hurt anyone again,” said John. 

_Small comfort for that girl’s mother._

On top of the haunting images from the case, John worried about Sherlock. The night’s events were just the kind of thing to detonate a Black Mood, which ripped through the flat, demolishing their domestic equanimity. A feeling of helplessness overwhelmed her; her heart ached, and her body slumped. She wanted to rest her head on Sherlock’s shoulder, but she dare not. The consulting detective was staring out the window, watching London pass by, deep in her thoughts. 

When the taxi pulled up at Baker Street, they fell into their routine. Sherlock got out and unlocked the door. John paid the driver. Unusually, Sherlock waited at the door and pushed it open for her. John could read nothing on her lover’s face. She climbed the stairs. 

Halfway up, Sherlock rested a hand on John’s shoulder and squeezed it lightly. John stopped for a second, but then resumed climbing. Once back in the flat, they hung up their coats, and Sherlock went into her bedroom and closed the door. 

John made tea. She sat on the end of the sofa. Sherlock emerged shortly in pajamas. She turned out the lights and stretched out along the sofa; her head in John’s lap. John reached for a couple of pillows and settled Sherlock closer to her. Sherlock closed her eyes. John drank her tea.

After John put her mug on the ground, Sherlock turned and rubbed her nose to John’s chest. Their eyes met. John slowly undid the buttons of her shirt. John pulled the left side of her shirt, half-revealing a flesh-toned cotton nursing bra. In slow motion, Sherlock closed her lips around John’s nipple through the fabric. John reached up and unhooked the clasp at the left shoulder and pulled the panel of fabric down, exposing a round breast and pink nipple pushing through a triangle of straps. Sherlock smiled shyly. Sherlock nosed at the underside of the breast and then at the top. John gave a soft chuckle and cupped her breast, tracing Sherlock’s lips with her nipple, offering it to her. Sherlock latched, and the wet heat went straight to John’s groin. She groaned loudly. John cradled Sherlock’s head and suckled her. 

Sherlock sucked softly at first and then greedily. The suction was a beautiful pull at John’s body and heart. Sherlock lapped and nipped with gentle teeth; then she rested her head on the pillow with closed eyes. John stroked Sherlock’s face with tender fingertips. Sherlock returned to John, clasping her lips around the swollen bud hungrily. She repeated the sequence. John pushed her breast further into Sherlock’s mouth and pumped the flesh with her hand, willing some invisible nourishment, some unspoken comfort into her beloved. Sherlock swallowed loudly.

_Take, take, take what you need._

When John’s sensitivity turned painful, she tugged Sherlock away from her and hooked the panel closed. Sherlock whimpered. John opened the right side of the bra. Sherlock gave a quiet cry and began nursing at the other breast. It was more awkward, but it also brought Sherlock’s forehead closer to John, and she swept her lips back and forth across Sherlock’s brow, humming an off-key lullaby.

Sherlock pulled off.

“Stay here?” she asked in a low voice. 

“Yes,” said John. She reached for a blanket that was draped on the back of the sofa. She removed her shirt and the nursing bra and wrapped the blanket around her bare shoulders and Sherlock. Sherlock laid her head against the left side of John’s chest. She leaned down and sucked anew at John’s nipple. It was a warm delicious sensation that John wanted to bottle. 

“Take, take, take what you need,” whispered John. “If it helps.”

Sherlock met her gaze. 

“It does.” 

Sherlock switched sides. John watched her feed until the tears blurred her vision.


End file.
